


Deliver Them from the Hand of the Wicked

by samwise_baggins, Steve-Bucky-Stucky (Chemical30)



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Hook, Choking, Cock Bondage, Derogatory Language, Drug-Induced Sex, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Nipple Clamps, Rape, Rimming, Rough Oral Sex, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 16:16:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10834800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samwise_baggins/pseuds/samwise_baggins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chemical30/pseuds/Steve-Bucky-Stucky
Summary: After rescuing Steve from the Potomac, the Asset goes on a quest to find out the truth, but he gets caught by Hydra in the chaos. He is imprisoned by a small Hydra cell and abused. Steve leaves the government, and the Avengers, behind on a single-minded quest to rescue and rehabilitate Bucky, despite being the Asset's last, unfinished, mission.





	Deliver Them from the Hand of the Wicked

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [拯救他們脫離惡人之手](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11142822) by [play781choy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/play781choy/pseuds/play781choy)
  * Inspired by [Deliver Them](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10887441) by [mbaline](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mbaline/pseuds/mbaline). 



The Asset straightened, looking down at the man he'd pulled from the river - - this man, _Steve_ , a distant voice in the Asset's brain reminded him, had broken something inside him. He watched Steve until the man coughed up the water he'd inhaled, signaling that he was alive. Everything in the Asset screamed at him to finish the mission, to strangle the weakened man until he stopped breathing. But, _something_ held him back, _something_ made the Asset simply tuck his throbbing, dislocated limb against his chest and turn away, leaving the blond man where he could be found.

Around him was chaos, people screaming and sirens blaring as the first responders tried to get a handle on the situation surrounding the destroyed S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters. The Asset knew he'd need to remove his tactical gear if he were to blend in, _get to a safe-house_ ; he knew of several Hydra safe-houses in the immediate area where he was supposed to report if a mission went south. However, the Asset didn't _want_ to go back to Hydra, and that thought alone left him confused: the Winter Soldier didn't want; he was a weapon, the _Fist of Hydra_. He did not get to _want_. He didn't _want_ to report to his handlers and be wiped. He needed to figure out why that man - - _Steve_ \- - was so familiar . . . more familiar than just a man he'd met on a mission earlier that week.

He kept walking, not towards any of the safe-houses; the broken bone in his arm was already healing but he knew the left one would need repairs. He'd need to find food and a place to rest, give his body time to heal itself. Behind a tall building, the Asset took the time to force his joint back into the socket so it could begin to heal properly.

A large tour bus passed by the broken, dirt-covered man, the banner on it's side proclaiming _‘The history of Captain America, our very own hero, now at the Smithsonian Institute!’_ The bus turned the corner and disappeared among the rest of the traffic, deeper and heavier than near the destroyed Triskelion building by the Potomac, as if the city couldn't be bothered to stop their own individual lives even to aid in such a massive disaster as the downfall of the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters - - as if the common citizen knew nothing about the actual defense of their freedoms and lives and what a threat had occurred just blocks away.

 _Captain America._ The Asset watched the bus, eyes trained on the banner until the bus was no longer in sight. _'You're keeping the outfit, right?’_ He shook his head, the fading memory of a bar, of music, coming and going in a flash. Looking around, the Asset saw several people looking at him with expressions of fear and confusion. Blinking, he looked down and realized that he was still in his tactical gear . . . he needed to find something to change into if he were to blend in. It wasn't hard for him to sneak into a shop and take a civilian outfit, complete with a ball cap to hide as much of his face as possible, leaving his tattered clothing behind.

As much as he wanted to go to the museum right then, he knew he needed rest and food. He managed to take some various snacks, small enough to fit in his pockets, from stands and shops while he walked, keeping his throbbing arm close to his chest. Eventually, the Asset came across an abandoned looking building. It didn't take much to break in and settle in a corner where the entrance was still visible. His pale eyes scanned the room, noting every possible point of entry in case he needed to make a quick getaway. The Asset stayed like that for several minutes, listening, watching, before taking out some of the snacks he'd taken from the stands. Cautiously, he opened a granola bar, flinching at the loud noise as the wrapper crinkled, as if expecting that noise alone to bring in people to take him back into cryo.

**************

Stroking one calloused finger over the faded picture of a smiling soldier in a World War II era Army uniform, vivid blue eyes shifting to compare the small photograph to the distorted image of a tortured man in a tube of what could be liquid, tubes mixed with bruises and other injuries marring the once beautiful features, Steve Rogers pursed his generous lips together. His heart clenched at the total pain, the haunted, abandoned look of his once closest friend: James Barnes - - Bucky.

Years ago, Steve watched that same man fall to what was assumed a frozen death in a river valley beyond searching. He let others convince him he should let Bucky go, mourn his missing body and empty grave, and let him rest. But Bucky hadn't rested . . . hadn't even died. He had been captured, tortured, enslaved - - and all because Steve had not gone after him, had let himself be turned away from the only man who'd ever really meant anything to him.

Steve would _never_ turn away again.

The voice of his newest friend, Sam Wilson, broke through, calm and supportive, determined. "So, when do we start?"

Raising his eyes, meeting the soulful brown gaze of the other former soldier, Steve felt gratitude well up at Sam's offer to help Steve locate Bucky: lost, wounded, confused, alone, but alive. Quickly tamping down the plans that threatened to burst forth, plans which definitely _didn't_ include the Veteran's Association counselor, Steve offered a broken smile of regret.

" _We_ don't, Sam. I have to do this alone."

Drawing a deep breath, as if to protest, eyes meeting, the other man paused then nodded. "I get it. Some things you gotta do on your own. But, you need me, you call." Sam offered his arm in a promise of solidarity.

In a world torn apart by the confusion and horror of sub-Nazi Hydra intertwined with United Nations-sanctioned S.H.I.E.L.D., that trust, that faith was precious to the long-time solider. Steve closed the file, nodded, and clasped just below Sam's elbow, feeling the other man clasp his forearm in the same location. They held still for a moment before Steve pulled Sam into a tight embrace.

"Thanks, Sam. I will." He pulled back and offered that same smile of pain and confusion and hope. "Might haveta reverse charges?" he suggested, almost sounding playful, almost sounding normal, as he stood by the graveside of his former commander, Nick Fury, a publicly acknowledged causality of the recent destruction of all Steve thought he knew and believed in.

"You think?" Sam eyed him from the side of his eye then chuckled, the slight gap between his top front teeth an endearing trait in a non-perfect man. Sam in all his humanity was akin to a breath of freshness in the near-perfect chaos of the Avengers. "You gonna try that shit overseas?" The man shook his head and thrust his hands into his pockets, looking towards the neatly trimmed grass at their feet, still smiling. "Man, you gonna do that, I'm gonna need a bigger wallet." Sam glanced over, his tone playful as he asked, "you mistake me for a Stark or something?"

"No," Steve's smile smoothed out to match Sam's playful tone, for the moment burying the pain of guilt and fear over Bucky's survival. "I could never mistaken you for an arrogant, mostly useless, prick."

Laughter burst from Sam as if punched from him, and Steve joined in, sounding somewhat wounded, tired, and strained. Stepping back from his friend, clutching the folder more securely until the thick cover threatened to crack with brittle age, Steve nodded. "Thanks." He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, "See ya 'round, Sam." Steve Rogers, Captain America, turned and walked away from friends, home, and responsibilities to chase a ghost from his past.

**************

The Asset didn't get the chance to go to the museum until nearly three days later. He kept the ball-cap low on his face, avoiding any and all security cameras that he could. The streets were busy and full of noise; he weaved through the crowds with ease. He didn't stand out, didn't bring any attention to himself; he'd been trained to get in and out without so much as a second glance from unwanted eyes . . . _a ghost_.

The exhibit on Captain America - - on _Steve_ , didn't have a lot of people visiting, but the Asset figured people must not do these type of things on a morning during the weekdays. The pictures and videos in the exhibit looked foreign, yet _so familiar_ , like a life lived so many years ago . . . one the Asset could remember blurry fragments of. Finally, the Winter Soldier stopped in front of a picture of a man with _his_ face. _'You're James Buchanan Barnes,’_ Steve had told him, and looking at the image of himself, of _Bucky_ ; the Asset couldn't quite believe it. The man in the grainy image _looked_ like him, but the Asset wasn't an American soldier, wasn't the best friend of Captain America - - _Steve_. The Winter Soldier was a weapon, the fist of Hydra; he didn't have _friends_. Maybe this was yet another trick, yet another training scenario that Hydra was putting him through to test his loyalty. If that was the case, the Asset could only assume he had failed and would need wiping and re-calibration, but he didn't _want_ to be wiped. He didn't _want_ to go back into cryo. He wanted to find _Steve_ , a part of him for his own selfish reasons: this Steve knew who he was - - who he had been . . . the other part of him still wanted to complete his mission. The Asset didn't fail a mission; he _needed_ to terminate the target.

Time passed and froze at the same time, the Winter Soldier wandered around the exhibit, looking at everything, reading every little bit of information he could. Sometimes he read a display over and over again, and _sometimes_ the words he read were accompanied by a flash of a memory. A memory that moved so fast that the Asset wasn't able to fully understand if the memory had happened at all. Eventually, there was an announcement playing over the speakers, telling anyone that lingered that the exhibit would be closing in a few minutes. Looking around again, the Asset noted that he was alone in the exhibit; he could remember a lone, old security guard circling the area but that man was nowhere in sight. The quietness, being _alone_ , made the Asset uneasy. His pale eyes scanned the room once more before abruptly turning on his heels and leaving the museum. He needed to make it back to the warehouse; if he could make it back to the warehouse, he'd be able to sort through all the conflicting emotions the exhibit had brought up. The Asset does not feel, does not want. The Asset is a weapon.

Keeping his head down, injured arm tucked securely against his chest, the Asset pushed out of the museum, the cold evening air brushing against his exposed cheeks. He took exactly ten steps out of the museum, down the large stone steps before he heard _something_. Head snapping up, metal fingers curling, gears whirring mechanically, the Asset looked in the direction of the noise, ready to fight.

He heard the shot before he felt it, a sudden jabbing in the base of his neck made him flinch ever so slightly. Bringing up his left hand to pull out the dart, the Asset stumbled to the side as his vision blurred and his limbs turned to lead, unable to hold his weight. Collapsing to his knees, the last thing he saw were four men approaching, all wearing the red sigil of Hydra.

**************

It was uncertain how long the Asset was out, but when he regained consciousness the first thing he became aware of was a cold draft over his entire body. _No clothing._ He didn't think this was the first time he'd woken up without clothes on, though those memories, like every memory before faded before he could fully grasp them. The second thing his sluggish mind realized was there was something _in_ him, something tight around his neck, almost cutting off his air supply but not quite. The third thing, and maybe most important, was his entire sense of balance was off, _Asset not functional, needs re-calibration_.

Blinking, clearing a drug-induced fog in his brain, the Asset looked to his left, making something shift deep inside of him, causing a rush of breath to leave his lungs. His entire left arm was missing, the strong metal appendage gone, replaced with a heavily scarred flesh stump. _A train, falling, screaming, 'Buck! Take my hand!'_

The Asset blinked again and used his injured arm to push himself painfully to his knees, the movement was a struggle due to his imbalance and the drugs cycling through his system. The tightness around his neck, what the Winter Soldier could only assume was a collar, _metal_ collar by the cool harshness against his skin, pulled against the object inside of him. A door opened and the Asset blinked against the sudden light filtering into the dark, cold room.

Standing in the doorway, letting the solid iron swing open on well-oiled hinges, revealing him bit by bit, an unfamiliar man glared at the Winter Soldier. Arms crossed over his well-defined chest, thick neck holding up a well-shaped head with little hair, dark eyes under even brows, the man dressed in Hydra security uniform let his eyes rove over the chained, nude weapon. He turned his head just enough to say, "half lighting and electricity," in a rumble of a baritone, not quite as low and threatening as a bass voice.

The lights brightened to allow the two men to see one another: one clothed, booted, in a position of dominance, command, the other chained to a wall, a metal leash tautly attached to a thick curved metal object inserted in his rectum, a long brace with a series of metal rings encircling his cock. The floor had a series of three inch by three inch grids across it from wall to wall, matching a similar grid pattern in the ceiling. The entire room was concrete except the metal grid pattern, a drain in the center where the floor sloped slightly, the heavy iron door, which remained hanging open, and a slab of iron to one side across from the door.

The Asset knew better than to try and fight the restraints; they were in all probability made to hold him - - there would be no use in attempting to break free. Staring blankly at the other man, the Asset hardly moved.

"You failed," the man said, almost conversationally. "And we don't have the chair to reset any faults in your programming. So, this is going to go a bit differently." He remained with his arms crossed over his chest, watching from the open doorway.

The Asset didn't say anything. He wasn't permitted to say anything without permission and even when he _did_ get permission to speak, he still got punished for it. He tried to shift to find a steadier position but the thick rounded hook buried inside him and the missing limb made that nearly impossible.

Nodding, as if the Soldier had spoken his agreement, the guard nodded. "Good. You get your arm back once your re-education is complete, not before. Understood? Answer."

"I understand, sir," the Asset responded robotically.

With another nod, the guard said, "and if you even consider trying to disobey, like you did during your last mission, you'll be in a world of hurt. So far, we've kept your chemical balance up for you. The minute you rebel? We withhold those chemicals. So, let's get this started." He turned and reached out the door. Someone else's hand came into view, briefly, offering a thick bullwhip. The guard turned back. "We want you to kneel down and stay quiet, Soldier!"

Already kneeling, the Asset simply stared straight ahead, not making a single noise.

The whip whistled as it sang through the air, laying painful stripes of torn flesh in its wake. Not above two dozen lashes, each deep and painful, marred the Asset’s back before the guard stepped back, panting just a bit and rubbing at his shoulder. "How's that feel, Soldier? Answer." He gave no indication of how he wanted the prisoner to respond.

The Asset wanted to say it _hurt_. That he wished for the man to stop. However, he knew better than to complain. _'The Asset does not wish for anything.’_ So, pushing back to his knees with his shaky, damaged arm, he responded, "needed re-calibration, sir. Thank you." _'The Asset does not feel.’_

"Good. So, we can forgo the electrical portion if you continue to feel this way." Handing off the whip out the door, the guard began to unfasten his trousers, pulling his hardening cock out and stroking it lightly. "Time for a reward, Soldier. Gonna like this, aren't ya?" He stepped over and began to loosen the Asset's collar so the tension on the anal hook eased, allowing the guard to pull on it, twisting and slowly shunting it, rocking it back and forth until, finally, he eased it out with an obscene pop and release of the stretching tension in the Asset's ass.

Gasping involuntarily, a quiet noise that could easily be mistaken for a breath; at the empty feeling, the Asset didn't look back at the man, staying still for his _reward._

Grinning behind the bleeding back of the Asset, the guard lined up his thick veined cock, brushing the spongy cockhead against that abused passage in a very brief warning before sliding in part way with a grunt. He began rocking, much like he had with the hook, in and out, a little more at a time, twisting his hips, until finally, he pushed all the way flush, his pelvis slapping the Asset's lower back. "Damn tight!" he grunted again.

Confusion reigned on the Asset's face, the stretching burn hurt but . . . there was an underlying feeling of pleasure that caused his own cock to attempt to harden, but the steel cage left no room for it to grow, making it painful. The cage hurt more than any lashes with the whip.

"Damn tight," the guard repeated then began to piston his hips, thrusting in that passage without aid of lubricant, a dry humping deep inside that burned and stretched and pulled. "Feel real good, Soldier. Just like old times, huh? When you used to let the other soldiers fuck your pretty little ass for favors in the war, huh?" His words fell harsh in the Asset's ears as the guard increased his rhythm, taking pleasure without concern for giving it. " _Camp bitch_ , that's what you were."

The increase in pace caused the Asset to grunt in discomfort, not daring to release the cry of pain that was bubbling up inside him. That damn cage made his cock ache as the guard ripped him open from behind. The Asset couldn't understand how this brutality felt _good_ ; despite the pain, he was still attempting to get hard. The guard's words brought back a quick flash of a memory: blond hair, sneaking in the woods, a large hand over his mouth keeping back sounds of pleasure.

It didn't take long for the guard to reach his limit, cumming hard and filling the Asset's ass with hot jism. He groaned and gripped the prisoner's whipped, bleeding shoulders. "Fuck, yeah. I gotta say I'm glad that fucking chair is too expensive to run. Giving you regular _treatments_ is gonna be a real treat." He pulled out, letting blood and semen mix and spill down the Asset's ass and thighs, dripping to the floor. "There ya go, all fixed for now. You'll get fed soon as we can arrange it." He reached for the anal hook and began to swing it around so he could try to reinsert it, but paused and shook his head. "Damn, don't need to fuck an infection. Right. I'll leave it out for now. Gonna notate you always gotta have lube or something. It'd be damn gross to fuck pus." And the man unfastened the hook from the collar, re-chained the Asset to the wall, then strode from the room. The iron door swung shut with a reverberating clang that vibrated through the victim.

The Asset slumped against the wall, the cool concrete soothing his heated, bleeding flesh. He couldn't understand how this new treatment would work as well as the chair, as much as he loathed that damn chair. Noting that his hand was actually free, the Asset fumbled around with the steel metal cage to try and unfasten it so he could relieve his aching cock.

As he got himself free, the door swung open again, revealing a different guard, slightly stockier, a bit shorter, and a whole lot lighter complexioned. He walked over and smacked the Asset's hand, hard, causing a jolt of pain to shoot through the exposed cock. "Who said you could touch that?"

"No one, sir," the Asset saw no point in lying; from past experiences that he could remember, they always found out if he lied. The Soldier let his throbbing hand fall away, despite how much he _needed_ release.

"You think you own that, you bitch?" the guard growled, reaching down to grab the Soldier's cock and squeeze. "That's ours!"

"The Asset doesn't own anything," he managed to say, wanting to both scream and moan as the guard squeezed his sensitive, throbbing cock. Maybe this one would let him get the relief he sought.

"You gonna learn that you don't get anything, less we give it to you!" With that, the dark blond guard pulled out his own filling member and stroked a couple of times. "Open your fucking mouth, Soldier! You're gonna make me feel real good, prove you know how to obey!"

Obeying instantly, the Soldier opened his mouth, his pale eyes staring blankly a little off to the side. So far the man hadn't put that contraption on his cock; if the Asset listened, maybe he could cum.

Stepping over, the guard shoved his rod deep into the Asset's mouth, pushing at his throat. The Soldier gagged instantly and he fought the instinct to bite down or pull away. Taking a breath through his nose, the Asset forced himself to keep his mouth open, jaw loose though he made no efforts to suck the man off. His own cock twitched with interest, his body so sensitive from being left without release by the other guard.

"Good boy," the blond guard growled and began thrusting harder, not seeming to want more than a hole to fuck.

Gagging and sputtering around the cock as it continued to force its way to the back of his throat, tears involuntarily collected at the corners of his eyes as the Asset struggled to breathe past the large member fucking his mouth brutally. He couldn't understand it, but his own cock seemed only to get harder; a deep, old familiar feeling of shame burned inside the Asset. He was a soldier, the Asset, the _Fist of Hydra_ and here he was _enjoying_ having his mouth and throat fucked like a bitch. A fleeting memory of doing this before flickered past his eyes: kneeling on the forest floor, _Steve_ leaning back against a tree as he - - as _Bucky_ sucked him off. The thought of the blond super soldier made the Asset's cock twitch once before cumming, thick white stripes of seed landing on the cold metal and concrete floor. The rush of pleasure through his body made the Asset's throat tighten and convulse around the guard's shaft, dragging the man's orgasm from him.

The guard grunted and pulled out instantly to coat the Asset's face and chest with quickly drying, sticky cum. He shook his member, flinging the last of his semen over the prisoner, before tucking himself away with a grin. "Yeah, a real bitch. Just _begging_ for it, ain't ya?" Slapping Bucky once across the face, the stocky blond bent down and growled, "you weren't supposed to cum until told, ya stupid twat." He straightened his uniform and strode out, calling, "still needs a lotta instruction that one."

The Asset slumped against the wall again, the cool surface providing some comfort to his shredded back once more. Lifting his aching arm, he tried to wipe off most of the guard's semen from his face and chest, but that did nothing but smear it. The Soldier felt a tiny amount of relief from his release; at least he wasn't aching anymore . . . but, the oddly familiar feeling of guilt and shame welled up inside of him. _James Barnes_ would be horrified at what the shell of the man he had been was subjected to. A once proud American soldier had been reduced to nothing but a few holes for Hydra agents to fuck.

Tall and thin, the next guard walked in and frowned severely at the Asset's dirty appearance. He shook his head and walked over. "Such a dirty boy," he growled. "And no restraint, no control. Wallowing in your filth." He unfastened his pants. "Well, if you prefer dirt, you can have my ass." He dropped his pants and turned, presenting his ass to the Asset. "Go ahead, make me cum."

The Asset just wanted to _sleep_ but knew better than to disobey. Shuffling forward, the Soldier painfully lifted his hand to pry the guard's cheeks apart. Taking a breath, the Asset leaned forward, thankful that this man was at least _clean_ , and lapped at the man's rim. His tongue darting into the guard's passage. Establishing a rhythm, it wasn't long until drool ran down the Asset's chin as he increased his efforts. Faintly remembering how Steve liked it when he sucked a bit, the brunet added sporadic sucking to his rhythm; the sooner he made this man cum, the sooner he completed a mission and hopefully would be able to rest.

At every dip and suck, the guard shuddered in response, making small almost-keening noises of appreciation. He let his head drop forward and spread his legs wider to give the Asset better access to his hot, tight passage. "God, you have a wicked tongue. Who the hell teach you to eat ass, boy?" He groaned out, fists clenching. "You gonna leave me hanging here? Where're your manners? Grab me, ass licker."

Pushing his face deeper into the man's ass as he continued to lap and suck at the guard's entrance, the Asset let go of the man's cheek and wrapped his arm around his waist to grip the guard's cock. The Soldier began to match the pace of his tongue, ignoring the pain that came with moving the injured arm. _’The sooner I complete the mission, the sooner I can rest.’_

Quicker to cum than the other two, apparently needy and unfulfilled, the guard let out a low groan and sprayed his seed all over the cell. He nodded and panted. "Damn good. Now come around and clean me up."

Pulling back, chin thoroughly coated in saliva, letting his hand fall away from the guard's cock, the Asset said, "cannot move from the wall, sir."

"Right." The tall man turned around and stepped closer. "There ya go. A reward for being so accommodating. Now make sure it's clean!" He didn't touch his own spent member or the Asset, his hands going behind his back as if to avoid touching anything _dirty_.

Leaning forward, the Asset took the spent, flaccid cock into his mouth. Ignoring the bitter, salty taste of the man's cum, the Soldier sucked and lapped, making sure to clean the cockhead and shaft thoroughly.

As the Soldier pulled back off his well-cleaned cock, the guard nodded and stepped back. "Good job, Soldier. We might be able to retrain you yet." Turning smartly, he pulled up his drawers and uniform pants, fastening them carefully and straightening his shirt and tie. "He's ready," he called out as he left the small room.

Slumping again, the Soldier knew the guards weren't done with him yet. The injured arm had begun to tremble and he just wanted to _sleep_. The Asset wondered if he was malfunctioning; he couldn't remember being this tired before.

The fourth guard walked in, carrying a bucket, and nodded at the Asset. "I see you're in need of some discipline. You came without permission. The evidence is just dripping from you." He splashed the Soldier with the bucket of surprisingly warm water, letting the rivulets wash away the worst of the mess. "Down on your back. And if you cum again before you're told, I'll beat you worse that you were before. The _Fist of Hydra_ must show restraint and self-discipline! It must not give into weakness or _desires_. The _Fist of Hydra_ does not _have_ desires!"

The Asset obeyed, laying down flat on his back. He didn't say anything as he wasn't permitted to speak. He just hoped this would be the last of them. The warmth of the water gave away to iciness as the Soldier lay on the cold metal and concrete floor. He had to hold back any display of pain as he put all his weight on his shredded back.

The guard stripped and put his clothing neatly on the metal slab to the side, which was relatively clean compared to the rest of the cell. Kneeling down in front of the Asset, he nodded and leaned over, taking the Soldier's cock into his mouth and sucking on it slightly. He then pulled back and nipped, very lightly, at the head, soothing with his tongue. He nipped carefully down the shaft towards the brunet's heavy sac and, hesitating a bit to watch the Asset's reaction, sunk his teeth into the sack very lightly, eyes never leaving the other man's.

Clenching his fist painfully, the Asset fought the urge to moan or cant into the confusing touch. He wasn't permitted to move, but despite his efforts, the Soldier's cock began to twitch and fill under the attention.

The guard let his teeth open and nodded. He reached over and slapped the Asset's inner thigh, so close to his cock the air from the movement breezed over the twitching fleshy rod. "So, you don't mind a little pain? Good. The _Fist of Hydra_ should not pay attention to pain. Pain does not exist for you." The guard buried his face in the Asset's ass, his cheek and forehead rubbing against the Asset’s cock, and began sucking at the Asset's hole.

Squeezing his eyes closed, the Asset's hips canted up ever so slightly, unable to keep his body completely under control as the guard sucked at his entrance. He couldn't understand why they were doing this . . . the Soldier couldn't see how any of this could help his programming . . . if anything this _new_ programming left him more confused and kept bringing back memories.

Shoving his tongue roughly, suddenly deep into the Asset, the man reached over and tweaked at his nipples, pinching them just enough to bring a slight pain amidst the pleasure. He continued to eat the other man out, sucking hard at one point. Removing his mouth from the Asset's entrance, the guard began sucking one of his balls into a hot mouth, lightly holding the sensitive orb with his teeth, letting hot breath and saliva surround it, but keeping it in that threatening haven of pleasure.

Releasing a soft gasp, the Asset opened his eyes and focused on the smooth, metal and concrete ceiling, trying to think of anything but the pleasure the guard was sending through his body. His erection had completely filled by that point, and the Soldier had been ordered not to cum, but that was proving to be _very_ hard.

Letting the one nut pop out of his mouth, the guard switched to the other, giving it the same delicate biting hold for several seconds as he sucked. Releasing that one, too, he moved down to place a light nip at the taint between cock and ass, lapping then nipping once more, his hair brushing the underside of the asset's erection, a bit wiry.

Breathing hard, the Asset closed his eyes again; he _must_ be malfunctioning. The Winter Soldier should be able to follow orders effortlessly: he was a weapon, a machine; however, here he was struggling not to cum. He couldn't understand what Steve had done to him; he needed to be repaired but this treatment did nothing to fix his shattering programming.

Pulling back, the guard sat back on his feet and smiled like a predator down at the panting, needy man. "So, they're right. You _have_ lost your control, your stamina. You _have_ grown weak. You will need to rebuild yourself, become strong again. These sessions will make you the _Fist_ once more!" And without warning he plunged his erection into the Asset's entrance, shoving in hard and deep, shunting back and forth, in and out, without mercy. "I will _make_ you the _Fist_ once more!"

The Asset bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood, to keep back a moan. His open, messy entrance welcomed the guard with little resistance. The Soldier's body jutted with each rough shove, his raw, shredded back rubbed against the unforgiving concrete floor, making the pain he felt borderline too much.

Pulling out of the Asset's ass, the man shuffled back and grinned, once more in a predatory fashion. He stroked himself a couple of times then sprayed his hot load all over the Asset's face, not trying to avoid mouth, nose, or even eyes. He stood, gathered his clothes, and walked to the door, sounding disgusted, "so fucking weak. The _Fist_ has become the _Slut of Hydra_! I doubt it can improve."

The Soldier didn't move, not even to get his weight off his throbbing back. He didn't grab his once more aching cock, knowing that he'd be punished for doing so. The Soldier - - _Bucky_ , Steve had called him _Bucky_ \- - felt disgusted with himself . . . what would Steve, strong, proud _Steve_ think of his best friend if he saw what he'd been reduced to. A set of holes to fuck . . . too weak to even put up a fight.

Yet another set of booted footsteps signaled another guard coming in to do his utmost to degrade and use the Winter Soldier. The man was a bit more solid, heavier than the others. He carried with him a few items which he proceeded to use on the Asset: another cock cage, this one stiff and metal, and meant to keep him erect rather than flaccid, with a urethral sound that slid down into the hole of the penis. He yanked the Asset back to his knees and chained him more securely, this time to the floor not the wall or ceiling. He attached collar and lead once more, inserting the anal hook before refastening it to the lead, tightening the leather to drive the dulled metal further up inside. Then, with an impartial frown, the man began to slap the Asset's back and chest with a leather thong, not hard, but painful on his dirtied open whip marks. The agent didn't speak, just went about his work.

The Asset - - _Bucky_ , his name was _Bucky_ \- - didn't make a sound, though he flinched with each painful hit, his cock throbbing and aching. He doubted this man would let him get relief. The brunet's body began to tremble slightly; Bucky was exhausted and in pain, he just had to wait out this next sadistic treatment . . . how much more could they put him through?

Stepping back after a good ten minutes of straight abuse, the guard turned with his thong, scooped up the discarded flaccid cock cage, and left the room, never saying a word. Right on his heels came another guard, frowning in disgust, glaring at the prisoner. "Now I get to take care of a broken, useless lump of flesh? I did not sign onto Hydra to do this drudgery!" He walked over and began scrubbing the prisoner down with a rough sponge and lukewarm water, grumbling, swearing, and insulting his charge the entire time. He growled out, "bend the fuck over, slut, so I can clean you out before you get filled with maggots and pus, you disgusting whore!"

Numb, in too much pain to do anything but listen, Bucky bent over, displaying his raw, inflamed passage. He tried to drown out the insults, though each one struck him harder than any hit ever could. He _was_ disgusting . . . he _was_ a whore. His still aching, erect cock proved that. He enjoyed the treatment, being fucked and used by the guards.

Kneeling, the guard reached back and let one of the others feed him a long, thin hose. He turned, removed the anal hook, and shoved the hose very carefully up to the prisoner's passage, but not directly inside. "On!" he called, and warm water flushed into the prisoner's rectum. The guard pulled the hose back, allowing water and cum and blood and other matter to flow out. Over and over he did this, washing his prisoner cleaner than he'd probably been ever in his life. Once finished, the medic carefully washed the prisoner's penis and testicles and every other body part, right down to cleaning under his nails. He finally let the other guards turn off the water and remove the hose, the waste water running down the drain in the floor.

The doctor stood and retrieved towels to dry his prisoner then began to tend his injuries with medicine and a clear sticky sealant that stopped the bleeding instantly but burned like hell. Nodding, re-hooking the former _Fist of Hydra_ into his torturous devices, the guard retrieved a bowl of soup and a large canteen of cool water. He, amid the insults and swears he never seemed to stop, forced his prisoner to finish every bit of soup as well as the water. By then, the cell was merely damp and not soaking wet. The agent gave the Soldier an injection of some rusty brown liquid, gathered his stuff, gave a last glare at the prisoner, and left, swearing, "a waste of my time and skills. I'm a doctor, not a fucking pimp!"

The door swung shut with a metallic clang and a lock fell into place.

Bucky watched the door for several minutes, waiting for another guard to come in, but as each minute passed and no guards came in, the brunet allowed himself to curl up on his side. The metal hook and cock cage made getting any sleep an impossible task, but he didn't dare try to remove the items; that would just bring about more punishment. Bucky simply let his mind wander, grabbing at any memories that came back to him.

**************

The trees grew tall, old, and thick in this section of forest, the leaves and other growth easily masking what lay ahead. Taking slow, steady breaths, Steve carefully made his way through the thick undergrowth, using his military training and experience to sneak up on the hidden bunker. Natasha's notes had taken days to translate, but most of the information provided wasn't applicable to Steve's immediate search. The knowledge of how Bucky had been tortured, brainwashed, _transformed_ into a killing machine with deluded loyalties would only come into play once Steve could locate his old friend. Instead, Steve found himself following a trail of Hydra retreat across D.C. and several local regions: Maryland and Virginia. And slowly, over two weeks, he managed to check off three different sites.

If Hydra had pulled their Asset out overseas, it would take years to find Bucky, but something inside Steve screamed his old friend and lover was close, closer than ever before. Steve had nothing to go on but a handful of rumors and deep instinct. He chose to follow instinct. He wound up in West Virginia, steadily deeper in hill country, though he felt he couldn't go much deeper without the locales banding together against a government facility or a group of strangers with secretive habits.

Pausing long enough to pull on a hunter orange vest and cap, recognizable shield draped with a concealing hunter green rain poncho, Steve scooped up a long sturdy branch about the size of a rifle. He made his way deeper into the thick undergrowth, following an apparently regularly traveled path. He was careful of every step, his military training coming to the fore, alert not only for other humans and wildlife but for traps, alarms, or cameras. He wanted whomever might be watching to mistaken him for a local hunter.

Patient and stealthy, Steve made his sturdy way deeper into the forest.

After a couple of hours, Steve stopped, brow furrowed. He carefully sniffed the air - - gas . . . bodily waste . . . blood? It could have been a hunter's camp, but Steve doubted a hunter would use a telltale item like gasoline; it in all probability would scare off game. Cautiously, Steve slid his shield from his back and eased through the trees.

In a clearing stood a cement bunker surrounded by beaten down dirt and ATV tracks. A thick power cable lay stretching towards the distant town Steve had seen some time before: a temporary operation taking over a permanent shelter. Steve stopped at the treeline, putting down the branch and pulling off the cap and vest, revealing leather jacket, jeans, and dark t-shirt, Steve wrapped his hunting disguise in the poncho and tucked it under a bush. Positioning himself against a large, leafy tree Steve watched the bunker.

Hating the idea of leaving Bucky in enemy hands to suffer God knew what tortures, Steve nonetheless knew the value of good surveillance. After several hours of watching, he knew there were _at least_ three guards rotating, possibly more, and they were definitely guarding _something_. Three or more men in Hydra uniforms guarding something in the back woods of West Virginia was alarming in itself. Even if it didn't involve Bucky, Steve had to act.

The guard changed once more, the new one a solid, muscular man. Fastening his belt and sneering, the man said " _Fist of Hydra_ my Auntie's ass. _Slut of Hydra_ . . ." he nodded to the man he relieved who walked into the bunker looking annoyed.

Steve's heart lurched and his stomach knotted as he recalled the translated file. _'The Fist of Hydra'_ was one of Bucky's designations. These men were raping Bucky? Steve wanted to vomit but pushed back his emotions. He'd rescue Bucky and make sure these men couldn't hurt him again.

Disgusted, Steve allowed the former guard enough time to become _distracted_ before sneaking as close to the current guard as his cover allowed. Aiming with care, Steve let fly his shield, grim satisfaction filling him as the guard dropped with bone-crunching accuracy, no alarm sounded yet. Steve caught the shield deftly and listened at the door, resisting the temptation to repeatedly kick the helpless man at his feet. He didn't hear anyone coming so took the time to kneel, use the man's boot laces to tie him up, and shove one of his socks in his mouth. Steve hid the man's boots and unloaded weapons, pocketing the clips.

Easing through the door, Steve found two Hydra agents playing cards and grumbling about being stuck _'in Bumfuck, Nowhere on re-calibration duty.'_ Steve smashed the darker man in the mouth with his shield and, whirling smoothly, used the shield in an uppercut to knock the blond guard unconscious. This time he took only enough time to verify the unconscious, bleeding men were unarmed, no weapons to be found. That meant someone further in the bunker was armed - - and armed well.

Alert for any sound, any hint of movement, Steve made his way to the first door and found an unoccupied storeroom. He checked two more doors before he located the weapons, and the guard busily cleaning them. The stocky agent had taken various weapons apart and set them out, each on its own cloth, in neat line-ups. Apparently, this crew had one man do everyone's weapons; not a good practice for many reasons. Least of all: Steve aimed carefully and managed to knock the man unconscious, scattering bits and pieces, then caught his shield. Now, the rest of the contingent would have to scramble for weapons once they found out they were even under attack. Steve carefully maneuvered around, collecting clips and bullets, and stashed everything behind the gun cabinet.

He made his way further down the corridor to the last door. Opening it softly, he became aware of three sets of sounds: running water, faint swearing, and muffled whimpers and moans of pain. Standing at the sink was a tall, thin guard washing in a fast, compulsive sort of motion. The sink sat right next to a heavy iron door from which the other sounds emanated. Steve sneaked up behind the lone guard and smashed him over the head with his shield, causing the man to let out a soft sort of sigh and collapse in a bloody heap. Steve left the water running and waited behind the door for anyone else to emerge. Much as he wanted to, he was not about to run into a possible dead end with who knew how many enemies. For once he had to think tactically, not emotionally; Bucky’s freedom depended on it.

A few minutes passed before the sounds ceased and the door opened, the guard swearing and grumbling as he exited. It was the man Steve had seen outside. So, six appeared to be their contingent. With some satisfaction, Steve aimed a blow at the man who seemed to recognize the danger, for he whirled around, dodging, eyes widening as he spotted the tall blond man in dark clothing. Without making a verbal sound, the man hit a large button on the wall, setting off a pair of swirling lights but no sounds. He took off running for the exit, Steve hot in pursuit.

The chase took the pair outside, and Steve was surprised the man was able to keep ahead of him so long - - after all, Steve had the super soldier serum enhancing his stamina and strength. But, by the tree line, Steve managed an accurate blow with his shield, felling the Hydra agent. He searched the man's pockets and found only a used syringe with the remnants of a rusty colored liquid inside and a too-small metal key. A scientist, most likely. Steve glared. He turned and charged back to the bunker, determined to find the key to release Bucky's cell door.

He had to search every unconscious man until he found it, in the pocket of the skinny guard by the sink. Bracing himself for what he might find, what tortures and horrors Bucky might have been put through, Steve fitted the key into the lock and opened the heavy door.

**************

This time the doctor secured Bucky off the cold floor in a chair, hands bound by handcuffs. The collar remained around his neck, but he didn’t attach the lead or anal hook. Instead, the doctor clamped Bucky’s nipples tightly and left them that way, a torture that had been added for variety recently. He locked Bucky in the cockcage then left amid grumbled insults and muttered anger once more.

Bucky let out a tiny whimper as the last guard left; he had no idea how long he'd been kept in this room, but every day, or what Bucky could only assume was every day, the guards would come in and do the same routine, starting with the man with the whip and ending with the doctor who'd clean and tend his injures, injecting him with that burning rust-colored liquid. Bucky hadn't been allowed to cum since that very first time and the brunet felt insane with his need. He'd actually resorted to begging, pleading for his captors to let him get some relief, but his pleas always fell on deaf ears. Every day, more and more memories came flooding back; most were fragmented and didn't make complete sense, but the onslaught of memories only added to the misery he felt from not being allowed to relieve himself.

It felt like a long time passed before anything new happened. The sound of the door unlocking, the metal swinging open behind him, came to Bucky in the damp darkness of his chilly concrete cell. Booted footsteps paused then headed carefully towards him.

Dazed pale blue eyes lifted to look up at the muscular man; too far gone to recognize the bright blond hair, Bucky whimpered again, "p - - please . . . pl - - please . . ."

Horror clenched at Steve's gut and he held back the tears that threatened. "Dammit, Buck," he breathed. "I gotcha." Steve moved to Bucky's side and immediately began by carefully releasing Bucky’s nipples from the clamps, easing the tight tension. He fumbled to release the cock cage, freeing Bucky's purple, swollen cock. "Damn . . ." Not knowing how long his best friend had been in such a state, but knowing that it could be permanently injurious to him, Steve eased his hand down over Bucky's erection and began to stroke him gently. "It's okay, Buck, you can cum for me . . . it's okay."

It didn't take long at all before Bucky was cumming with a small cry of both pain and relief. The brunet panted and his body trembled as the throbbing in his cock _finally_ began to ease a bit. Blinking, Bucky looked back up and murmured, "St - - Steve?"

"Yeah, Buck, I gotcha. You're okay now." Steve unchained the collar from where it was fastened to the chair then removed it, massaging Bucky's neck with one large, gentled hand. He used the small key to unfasten the handcuffs, freeing Bucky’s wrists. Steve pulled off his own leather jacket then his t-shirt and slid the shirt on Bucky, followed by wrapping the jacket around his waist and tying the sleeves.

"Steve . . ." Bucky repeated on a breath; he let the large man dress him and ease him up on shaky legs. "I remember you . . ."

"Yeah?" Steve offered a small smile, transferring his shield to his arm then supporting Bucky's too-light weight. He had seen the whip marks, among other injuries, but the one that stood out the brightest in his mind was the whip injury across the stump of Bucky's left arm. The bastards had used their torture devices to re-injure Bucky's already decimated arm.

"Yeah . . . use ta wear newspaper in your shoes," Bucky murmured, leaning against the solid bulk of the blond.

Blinking in surprise at something he barely recalled himself, Steve laughed softly. "Yeah, I did. My shoes were always too big, so I had ta fill the difference up to keep em on." Steve began to half-carry his friend from the eerily silent bunker, ignoring the sight of the very thin, tall guard lying crumpled and bleeding near the sink.

Shuffling, trying to carry his own weight, though he knew Steve was taking the most of it, Bucky didn't look around. He just wanted to get out.

It took several long minutes, and they passed four other unconscious men Bucky could recognize as his guards, before Steve hauled the weakened brunet from the bunker. He didn't stop once they'd left the fetid air behind. Steve kept going into the line of trees, muttering something about an alarm. They passed the hydra doctor.

"Where are we going, Steve?" Bucky murmured, blinking at the sudden change in light.

"They triggered a distress signal before I could subdue them all. We'll be crawling with goons soon. Gotta get you well away from there before reinforcements show." Steve continued to half-carry his friend from the prison, eyes always searching, ears listening, hoping to keep one step ahead of the agents and their damn _infatuation_ with Bucky. "Gotta find a way to get far from here, quick."

"Should be vehicles nearby," Bucky offered, looking around with clearer eyes.

Nodding, Steve agreed. "Yeah, and I can hot-wire one once we find it. Hear anything, Buck?" Steve tilted his head to listen for those following or maybe sneaking up, but he heard nothing except the interrupted sounds of nature. This rescue was too damn easy. It never went so easy. What the hell would go wrong? Steve felt anxiety well and pushed it down.

"Don't hear anything," Bucky shook his head, leaning heavily against Steve's side as he let the blond maneuver him around.

Once under the cover of the trees, Steve relaxed marginally. Without pause, he hurried them through brush and branches aside one of the ATV trails but not directly in the clear. After a long, arduous time, Steve managed to sequester them both in a rather thick section of underbrush before turning to his long lost friend. Sighing, reaching over carefully to stroke the long shaggy hair from the brunet's light eyes, Steve murmured, "Bucky . . . I finally found you."

"You always find me," Bucky murmured, words slurring slightly from the effects of the drug he'd been given.

Steve looked down over his friend and frowned softly, worried about how pale and thin and . . . out of it Bucky seemed. He stroked once more then turned to scan for a vehicle beyond the treeline. There was no way Bucky could make it on a longer walk than he had been forced to already. Finally, nodding, Steve began to rise. "I see a car. Can you make it to that stand of trees?" He gestured outside the woods towards a small group of trees by a single house, an old beat-up truck sitting next to it.

Sluggishly looking over, Bucky nodded clumsily and said, "yeah, I can make it . . ."

"Good," Steve helped Bucky to his feet. "Let's go." He began assisting his friend towards that vehicle, keeping alert for signs of pursuit, waiting for everything to go to hell like it normally did. That nagging feeling that this was _too easy_ wouldn't stop; even if there had been a rare mission or two that the _Howling Commandos_ had pulled off without a hitch, Steve always got worried when things went smoothly.

At the side of the truck, Steve let Bucky lean on the sun-warmed hood while he checked the doors. Shaking his head at this betrayal of trust, he opened the unlocked driver's door and began looking around for possible keys, rather than hot-wiring the thing. Lying half-across the front seat, Steve was stunned when a voice behind Bucky spoke up.

"Whatcha need, boys?" A man in typical work coveralls stood there with a rifle slung casually over his shoulder, though his eyes were anything but lazy.

Steve slipped out of the truck, warily checking to make sure Bucky was both fine and not thinking of attacking the civilian, before turning to the man, opening his mouth.

"Holy crap!" the guy said, eyeing the bare-chested blond. "You're Captain America!"

Steve flushed. "Uh . . . yes. I need a lift into town?" He glanced to Bucky again.

Bucky watched the man, leaning heavily against the side of the truck, looking like he was about to pass out.

The farmer glanced at Bucky, just like Steve, and asked, "that wouldn't be Ironman would it?"

"Uh," Steve said again, "no. Ironman's shorter in real life. He's an American citizen I rescued from Hydra."

"Well, if you boys get in the truck, I'll take ya to town, but not sure what you want there. It's a nowhere place, barely a dot on a map." The farmer looked back at Steve then snapped his eyes to Bucky.

"That's good," Bucky slurred out.

Steve walked around to Bucky's side and helped him into the truck, closer to the door than the middle. He watched carefully as the farmer slid in and beamed up at the tall blond. The man started his old truck without problem, and they headed into town on the paved roads. Steve looked back to Bucky beside the door, worried for his friend.

Leaning his head against the cool glass, Bucky squirmed slightly in his seat, barely managing to hide a wince as his injured back rubbed against the old leather seats. He felt a need he didn't even _want_ to understand . . . the soft leather jacket caressed over his bare ass and crotch, making the brunet close his eyes and press his lips together to hold back a needy whimper.

Steve frowned and glanced towards the farmer, but noted the man didn't seem aware of Bucky's sounds, soft as they were. He slid a hand over to Bucky's knee and squeezed gently, reassuring him silently that Steve was there for him now.

The squeeze did absolutely nothing to distract Bucky from the odd feelings brewing inside of him. His blood seemed to _burn_ with need. Had Hydra messed him up so much that he literally needed sex _so_ often?

The farmer got them to town in about half an hour, and nodded. "Where to? The bus doesn't come here. Neither does the train. We got a general store and a bed and breakfast. That's about it."

Steve said, "the bed and breakfast, please. I think he'll be okay with some rest and food. Thank you so much for everything, sir." His tone was earnest and full of gratitude, earning a pleased proud smile from the man.

Pulling up in front of a building that looked comfortable and neat, if old, the farmer grinned. "Well, have a good day, Captain. And, if you need anything else, you can just call on me. Daniel Riggson. I'd be proud to help out one of our boys." The man saluted Steve, who snapped a salute in return then turned to help Bucky from the truck.

Steve looked up at the building, drew a deep breath, and began to half-carry the lighter, leaner man up the steps. There weren't many people around to stare, at least, in such a tiny town. At the top step, the truck could be heard rolling away. Steve let out a breath and opened the door, helping Bucky into the cool semi-dark interior of the old Victorian.

Bucky clutched tightly, desperately, at Steve, trying to will away the onslaught of confusing, debilitating feelings that being so close to the large blond brought up.

The woman behind the large central desk watched with a soft frown. She asked, "need a doctor?"

Steve looked at Bucky's ravaged features and said, "first a room, bath and food? I need to find him some clothes, too. He's a POW, ma'am, just rescued."

Apparently even in such a tiny American town patriotism ran high. The woman jumped from behind her desk to begin helping the pair.

Bucky flinched away from the woman, pale eyes flickering to watch her warily.

"I got him, ma'am, if you could just lead the way and provide what I asked for?" Steve hurried to say at the look in Bucky's eyes. It reminded him of a stray dog they'd once helped back as kids, all wary and bite from abuse. He couldn't risk the _Winter Soldier_ hurting a civilian.

The lady nodded and let them into a second floor room before hurrying off to get food and other supplies for the pair. Steve helped Bucky to the bed and lay him down on his right side. "It's okay, Buck. I gotcha." He began carefully peeling the jacket and shirt away, intent on getting the sheet over his friend to preserve his dignity when the lady returned.

Bucky's breath hitched in the back of his throat, his hand clutching tightly at the sheet as his back arched slightly, attempting to chase Steve's touch.

Realizing suddenly what was happening, that for some reason Bucky was still sexually needy, Steve stopped undressing him and pulled the sheet over his friend instead. "Soon, Buck. Let me get the supplies and I'll take care of ya soon. I promise," he offered softly.

The lady brought in a tray of cold meat and bread, cheese and water bottles, as well as orange juice and fruits. She also had a box of bandaging supplies and medicines. "I don't have any men's clothes, but I can go to the general store for you if you give me some cash and his sizes."

Nodding, Steve said, "Don't worry about that right now, ma'am. Right now I think he needs more rest than clothes. Thanks."

She took one more look at Bucky then turned and left, shutting the door quietly. Her footsteps could be heard on the stairs down to the first floor.

Steve pulled back the sheet and finished stripping Bucky, whispering, "they got you all messed up, don't they, Buck? I gotcha. I'll take care of ya."

Keening softly, a noise Steve hadn't heard since their time in the war, Bucky looked at Steve, "please . . . please, Stevie . . ."

Nodding, Steve stripped quickly and lay next to Bucky. "I'm right here, baby," he said softly, reaching out to help ease Bucky closer to him, careful of the injuries. "Whatcha want? You wanna be inside? Want me inside, baby?" Steve reached down as he cooed, stroking gently over Bucky's cock and balls, letting his fingers trace Bucky's taint to his asshole.

Gasping at the pleasure Steve's caresses brought him, Bucky breathed out, "want . . . you . . . Stevie - - please?" The brunet canted his hips into the blond's touch.

Nodding, Steve slid from the bed and went to the attached bathroom. He searched the offerings, found a bottle of hand lotion, and checked the ingredients quickly. Smiling at the _all natural_ contents, he brought it back and slipped into bed with Bucky once more, facing him. "Gotcha, Buck," he cooed again and opened the lotion. Pouring a generous amount on his fingers, he reached down between them and began massaging the soft lotion into Bucky's rectum, loosening the tight ring of muscle as he worked. "This right, baby?" he asked.

Whimpering, Bucky rolled his hips to get Steve's fingers deeper, "can take more . . . don't require prep . . ."

Surprised, frowning softly, Steve slipped two fingers into his friend, not daring take the abused man at his word that he didn't _need_ preparation. Steve wanted Bucky to feel good, feel relief, not just have a quick fuck. Slipping in further, Steve found Bucky's prostate and stroked over it twice.

Bucky keened in response to having his prostate stroked, his back arching once more, despite the painful injuries. "Stevie . . . please . . . please - - hurts . . . want you . . . please . . ."

"Hurts?" Steve frowned, worried about Bucky's medical condition. He began twisting and scissoring, judging how loose his friend really was, reaching over with his other hand to begin stroking Bucky's cock and balls in time with his explorations. "Where's it hurt, baby?" he murmured.

"Everywhere . . . _burns_ . . . please, Stevie, I need it . . . please," Bucky moved his hand to clutch at Steve's shoulder.

"You sure you need _sex_ , Buck? I can get a doctor if you rather?" Steve carefully added a third finger to Bucky's passage, stroking deep as he could, sliding over Bucky's prostate.

Groaning, Bucky shook his head, "no doctor. Jus' . . . need you, Stevie . . . give it to me like you used to . . ." His hand tightened its grip on the blond's shoulder, his hips moving with Steve's pace.

Nodding, Steve withdrew both hands and coated his own hard member with the lotion. Steve helped Bucky roll over onto his front and get onto his knees, one strong arm supporting Bucky since he only had one trembling arm to help. Steve lined up the tip, not speaking, and carefully began to push inside, eyes closing, lips pressed together at the utter bliss of once more being inside his friend, his lover.

Moaning low, Bucky rolled his hips, pushing Steve deeper. He could remember flashes and fragments of them doing this in the war, even before he'd been shipped off. Doing this with Steve felt so much better than with the guards. Being with Steve felt right, somehow.

"This okay, Buck?" Steve breathed, careful not to press up against that whip damaged back, though he couldn't avoid shunting against Bucky's whipped ass while he made love to Bucky.

The burn and sting of Steve thrusting against his marked ass made Bucky mewl softly, his fist closing around a handful of the sheet. "Yes, Stevie . . . you know how to make me feel . . ."

Resisting the urge to kiss his lover across his shoulders and neck like he used to, Steve continued to thrust deeply into Bucky, rolling his hips to meet each of Bucky's back thrusts. He built the pace rather quickly, hoping to give his friend the release he sought so they could rest. He figured Hydra must have done something to keep Bucky on edge for too long and with a little loving, the other man could finally relax.

It didn't take long before Bucky came, striping the sheet with his cum; the brunet moaned low through the pleasurable waves of his orgasm, his hips stuttering and slipping out of the rhythm.

Feeling his own balls tightening, ready for release, Steve moaned low and deep. "God, Buck, gonna cum . . ." Bucky could only pant, his hips still clumsily pushing back against Steve. Taking the silent shunting as agreement, Steve let himself tumble over the edge, orgasming. He shot load after load of hot thick cum into his lover's passage, filling him to overflowing, so long denied the true object of his lust and love. "Bucky," Steve keened long and low. As his own sexual high lightened, Steve carefully pulled out of Bucky's tight heat. "God, Buck . . . so beautiful," he panted, stroking carefully over an uninjured area of Bucky's strong, lean hip.

Whimpering softly, Bucky's body went practically limp, the exhaustion finally beginning to take over now that he'd gotten his release.

Smiling softly at the sight, Steve eased off the bed to get stuff to clean Bucky up with. He began tending his lover gently, thoroughly, making sure he was clean, medicated, bandaged, and able to rest. Steve even used some of his mother's long-ago-taught medical knowledge to change the sheets with Bucky still in the bed, disturbing him very little. Finally, Captain America slipped into the bed next to the Winter Soldier and let himself drift into sleep, one arm carefully around the brunet's waist, face buried in his neck.

**************

Bucky blinked awake a few hours later. The brunet took in his surroundings; he couldn't remember leaving his cell . . . how had he gotten here? Looking over, Bucky sprang into action as he saw another man with bright blond hair sleeping next to him. In his fear-riddled brain, Bucky didn't recognize Steve, something deep in his subconscious telling him to _eliminate the target_.

The brunet straddled Steve's hips with a series of quick, fluid movements despite the change in his weight from his missing limb. Bucky wasted no time, he wrapped his hand around the blond's throat, squeezing, cutting off Steve's air supply.

Stunned as he was choked awake, Steve's quick mind took in the blank stare and deadly intent in Bucky's face. He went very still and limp, not fighting despite everything in him screaming to defend himself, he choked out "to the end of the line, Bucky . . ."

The brunet's hold lessened slightly, though he didn't let go completely, his pale blue eyes widened. After several moments the events of the last several days hit Bucky all at once. "Steve . . ." he breathed, his chest heaving as if he struggled to take in a full breath, "Stevie?"

"It's me, Buck," Steve choked out. "I'm with ya." He kept his body still and pliant, knowing that if he tried to get out of Bucky's choke hold, even with the relaxed grip, the Winter Soldier could come back and finish the job. He had to keep Bucky's personality in the fore, overshadowing the training and abuse the man had been conditioned with.

Letting go completely, Bucky slumped back, between Steve's legs, and let out a shuddering breath as he ran his fingers through his tangled hair. "You got me out . . . this is real . . ." Bucky murmured softly.

"Yeah, Buck. We're together again. It's real. You're free and I'm going to keep you free." Steve sat up, legs still encircling Bucky. He embraced the other man in strong arms.

"Not free, Steve," Bucky whispered, leaning his forehead against Steve's broad shoulder. "My mission . . . it's still in me. It's still there."

Nodding, Steve hugged his lover close. "I know, Bucky. I know. We'll find a way to break it . . . or change it." Lifting Bucky's chin with one sure hand, Steve offered his best friend a sure smile. "I'm with ya, Buck. Always will be." He gently let his lips trace over Bucky's in a tender kiss.

Mewling softly against Steve's lips, Bucky carefully lifted his arm to wrap around the blond's neck, pulling himself closer.

A bit surprised when he felt Bucky's rising ardor down below as well as in his lips, Steve kissed back then pulled away and looked down. "Want help with that, Buck?" he asked gently.

Looking down, Bucky groaned softly, shaking his head, "I'm sorry, Steve . . . I - - I don't know what they did to me . . ."

Kissing Bucky once more, Steve wrapped a loving hand around his lover's cock and began stroking. He transferred his lips to Bucky's neck and nipped very lightly. "S'kay, Buck. I don't mind helpin' ya out. We'll figure it out, 'kay?"

Keening, Bucky's hips thrust into Steve's hand and he nodded, "o - - okay."

Nodding in return, Steve slid down so he lay down on the bed. He moved his hands to Bucky's hips and guided the other man up, in a knee walk, so that Bucky was over Steve's face. The blond looked up at the brunet, smiling, and began licking under Bucky's sac as he once more started stroking his cock, tasting the base, perineum, and back to his tight passage. "Buck, ever mention I love the way you taste?" he murmured as he worked his lover.

Letting out a tiny moan, Bucky's hips canted and he replied honestly, in a breathless voice, "don't remember."

"Well, let's make some new memories, baby," Steve breathed and placed gentle kisses along the underside of Bucky's cock. He shifted slightly then took the tip of Bucky into his mouth and traced with his tongue, sucking lightly. Fingers of one hand carefully positioning the brunet's member, Steve moved his other hand to fondle Bucky's balls and caress his taint.

Keening, Bucky's head fell back and his hips continued to thrust slightly.

Enjoying his lover's taste, the once familiar thrusts of Bucky's cock in his mouth, Steve continued to suck and trace Bucky's cock. He stroked and caressed, eventually sliding his finger around Bucky's passage, massaging, loosening, stroking. Steve began to engulf Bucky slowly, inch by solid inch, until he opened his throat and took all of his lover down, a skill he'd been out of practice at but his body recalled vividly.

As Steve swallowed him completely and his fingers traced over his passage, Bucky let out another moan, his hips continuing to thrust shallowly.

Enjoying the long-absent feel of pleasuring his boyfriend, Steve continued to suck and bob, humming softly to add to Bucky's pleasure. But as he worked, he was completely aware of the small tells Bucky didn't even remember he had. After a while, Steve slipped back off Bucky's cock and gave it a last, swirling lap, knowing any more would go into the range of pain instead of pleasure. Instead, Steve moved to Bucky's passage and began rimming his lover, stretching him and tongue fucking his ass. He unconsciously, and lovingly, proved himself more attune to Bucky's needs than any other lover, forced or otherwise, the brunet had before.

It didn't take much longer before Bucky let out a small strangled moan and striped Steve's face and head with thick white cum, blending across his blond locks and over the pillows. With one last lap, Steve once more pulled back, positioning Bucky's body over top of him, pulling him down so they lay stretched, Bucky on Steve. Smiling, momentarily ignoring the mess Bucky had made of him, Steve asked gently, "Better, baby?"

Humming softly, Bucky nodded, content to just lay down for a moment as all his senses came back under control. "Steve?" Bucky breathed out after a moment.

"Yeah, Bucky, it's me," Steve responded softly, stroking a hand down his lover's cheek.

"You really are here, aren't you?" Bucky asked, letting his hand trail over Steve's side, over the blond's rib cage, "I kept dreaming of you. In flashes. Things are still fuzzy and don't make a whole lot of sense. But, I kept remembering _you_. We were like this before, weren't we? Together?"

"Yeah, Buck," Steve smiled. "We've been like this since we were sixteen . . . and together since we were little kids." He shifted so that he could slide from under Bucky's weight, next to him instead. Steve stroked his lover's cheek again. "I've got you back."

"And we can stay like this?" Bucky asked on a breath, meeting Steve's eyes, his tone hopeful, pleading.

Nodding, Steve answered honestly, "yeah. We're gonna keep moving until we find a safe place to settle down. And I'll take care of you . . . I love you, Bucky."

"'Til the end of the line?" Bucky's lips twitched into a small smile as he looked at Steve, his lover.

"Yeah, Buck," Steve smiled back and brushed his lips over Bucky's. "Till the end of the line."


End file.
